


the light that rises

by unfolded



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Humor, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded/pseuds/unfolded
Summary: She arrives in a ball of flame, with skin like alabaster and eyes like a midnight sea. She is dangerous, and alien, and capable of bringing the world down around them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Characters belong to BioWare. Title belongs to Sonnet XIII, Pablo Neruda. Typos belong to me.

She arrives in a ball of flame, with skin like alabaster and eyes like a midnight sea. She is dangerous, and alien, and capable of bringing the world down around them.

Jaal’s presence at the gates is purely tactical. His orders are to size her up, determine her ship’s offensive capabilities, and find out how many crew are on board: understand the force the Resistance would need to fight them and win. He has heard of humans in passing - has seen a few during his infrequent visits to Kadara Port - but she is the first to step foot onto their homeworld, their last bastion of true safety. She is small even by her species’ standards, unarmed and unarmored: if she intends to fight, she has made a poor show of strength.

He could cut her down where she stands. Would do it gladly.

He stays at the gate only long enough to speak with Paaran Shie, then is gone again, the streets back to Resistance Headquarters teeming with nervous chatter. By the time the human joins him, he has already resolved that he will merely take her to Evfra and then be on his way. She is no threat that cannot be dealt with swiftly, and there are more important things to do with his time, stronger enemies that demand his attention. When she asks him about the kett, he answers honestly - tells her that they steal his people, their land, their home, their safety - and feels a kind of savage gladness when she says the humans have had similar trouble. Good. It would do them well to know the terror of an alien race that seeks only to _take_.

He has dismissed her entirely when she mentions her purpose on Aya.

It’s not the vault he’s interested in. It is old and ancient, dormant since before he can remember, and he doubts there’s any use she could gain from it. But the vault needs the Moshae, and their best efforts to rescue her have failed. Evfra has given her up for lost, unwilling to sacrifice more life, to send soldiers who are desperately needed elsewhere. This is a chance to get her back. It is the best chance he’ll have.

He knows that Evfra can read the intention plain on his face when he volunteers to accompany the human, but Jaal is a good soldier and nothing more - he can afford to be lost. His request is granted. He will leave with the Pathfinder.

“Thank you for trusting me,” she says.

“I don’t,” he tells her. “But I could always kill you in your sleep.”

“Good to know,” she replies, and there’s an unmistakable note of amusement in her voice. He leaves to pack his things.

And this is how Jaal Ama Darav meets Sara Ryder.

 

* * *

 

The crew debrief after Aya is an absolute clusterfuck. Drack’s bored, Peebee’s impatient, and Cora clearly thinks she’s unfit to lead. The angaran sits in the darkness and watches her flounder, which somehow makes it worse. She resorts to begging _him_ to explain how all of this will help them access the vault, and by the time he finally deigns to save her from her own ineptitude, she’s seriously pondering the benefits of taking a swan dive out the airlock and letting Cora take the helm.

She hides in her quarters and shores up a few small issues on Eos before deciding that she’ll have to speak with her new crewmate sooner or later. He’s taken up residence in the Tech Lab, which would be a bigger issue if anyone actually _used_ the Tech Lab - as it stands, the cot he’s shoved into the back corner is the most activity the room has seen since they left the Nexus.

She’s determined to start off on the right foot this time, wants him to know that not all aliens are here to bring destruction and chaos. If she’s honest, she admires his bravery for taking a chance on them at all, and wants to tell him so in a way that doesn’t result in getting herself _killed in her sleep_.

“You signed up to help us, even though you knew nothing about us.”

There. That was good. Complimentary but still professional. _Very_ Pathfinder-ish.

“Perhaps it had nothing to do with you.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”

His gaze is steady on her. “I do not.”

_Fantastic,_ she thinks. _Sara Ryder, Queen of First Contact._

They stumble through the rest of the conversation - well, _she_ stumbles, and Jaal makes quick work of dismissing every question she asks. She’s one dead-end conversation topic away from offering to drop him back at Aya and save him the apparent misery of her company when he throws her off balance ( _again, some more_ ).

“There’s something unique about you - uneasy, raw - but somehow profound.”

A distant part of her knows that she should probably be offended - he’s just called out her inexperience more effectively in one sentence than Addison could do in a full-length rant - but from him it only sounds honest.

She can deal with honest. Hell, she probably _needs_ honest, especially from the galaxy’s resident home team.

Naturally, she fucks it up by _absolutely butchering_ the suggestion that they get to know each other better one-on-one, but blessedly Jaal doesn’t seem to notice. She retreats before she can cause a diplomatic incident.

And this is how Sara Ryder takes an interest in Jaal Ama Darav.

 

* * *

 

The Pathfinder is true to her word. The morning after their first conversation in the Tech Lab, he wakes to the sight of Voeld outside the large windows of the Tempest. She passes him in the common area on her way to the bridge and throws a quick nod in his direction.

“Jaal, Drack, suit up. Planetside in 20. Hope you brought your warmest undersuit. Cold as shit out there.”

His translator’s interpretation of this phrase is decidedly unpleasant.

From the moment they land on Voeld, it becomes deeply apparent that the human Pathfinder is tenacious beyond his reckoning. She is single-minded in their goal, and despite the number of things to be done, their progress is relentless. She rotates out the ground team to keep them fresh, but Ryder herself is present for every mission, refusing to delegate out command to her officers despite a cold brutal enough to keep her teeth chattering for hours over the comms.

During the rare moments she’s on the ship, she regularly comes by the Tech Lab to speak with him. She has endless questions about angaran culture, about the history and biology and religion of his people. She listens intently to his answers and supplements them with stories of her own. The attention both alarms and flatters him: he cannot be sure of her purpose, cannot trust her goals, but the work she has done on Voeld demands his cooperation. Naturally, her interest is primarily in the Moshae, and he accommodates her curiosity with stories about his time as a student under her charge. Other than a brief incident where she seems to interpret his affection for his former teacher as romantic - _really_ , the woman is revered but also _ancient_ \- she seems to be developing a competent understanding of the angara.

He is unsure whether to be impressed or unsettled. He lands somewhere in between.

It takes two weeks to reactivate the vault on Voeld. It takes three more to virtually eliminate kett presence outside their stronghold in the mountain. It takes another five days to complete several other tasks given to her by his people: supply drops, defense patrols, resource gathering. By his estimate, the Pathfinder’s presence has saved dozens of angaran lives.

And this is how Jaal Ama Darav comes to respect Sara Ryder.

 

* * *

 

At the stronghold on Voeld, Sara truly begins to appreciate how astonishingly fucked up the kett are.

They’re turning the angara into monsters. Exaltation takes their people, makes them unrecognizable, and then sends them back into war against their own brothers and sisters. Against the ones they used to love.

The horror of it is written all over Jaal. She doesn’t know what to do with it - doesn’t know what to say against the impossible truth and the fragile peace the two of them have created - so she puts a hand on his shoulder and doesn’t say anything at all. Drack leaves them to scout ahead, and she gives a brief thought to how glad she is to have brought him, an old man who has seen enough loss not to crumble under the weight of it.

Eventually, Jaal speaks.

“How many have I killed, not knowing? Ryder, I did not know.”

The words ring in her head long after he’s gathered himself up and moved forward. They echo as he bangs desperately against the glass of the decontamination chamber, repeat like a mantra as she guns down dozens of Chosen in the heart of the base. When Moshae Sjefa demands they bring the stronghold down with the angara still inside, she hears those words so loud she’s sure her ears are bleeding. How many have they killed, not knowing? How many more are they willing to sacrifice?

She leaves the facility standing. The Cardinal drones on about how surprising it is that she’s beginning to appreciate the great _gift_ of exaltation, and it brings Sara no small amount of pleasure to shoot it in the fucking face. It’s the first time she’s ever killed someone out of anything other than self-defense.

And this is how Sara Ryder starts to understand Jaal Ama Darav.

 

* * *

 

Their return to Aya is triumphant. The Moshae knows her audience, and she plays her part well: Jaal has no doubt she is genuinely happy to be home, but her exaltation of the Pathfinder is purposeful and political. Ryder will have no further opposition in the city.

He, too, has lost the urge to resist her. The Pathfinder is effective, and determined, and _compelling_ , no less so because she remains a mystery to him in so many ways. She is alternately deferential and flippant: he has watched her treat countless colonists with impeccable respect, but he’s also heard her tell Addison that it was _impossible to calculate how few fucks she gave about Tann’s opinion_ , a moment he remembers with uncharacteristic fondness (he doesn’t know Tann well, but the man leaves very little to be admired). Ryder is unerringly logical in her decision-making, but eternally soft-hearted with her crew: her shock at he and Liam’s _cross-species cultural education_ had quickly given way to laughter and nothing more than light admonishments. She endures Drack’s ribbing with grace - seems to delight in being called _kid_ to his _old man_ \- and has an endless appetite for Peebee’s various antics.

(Once, after optimizing his loadout for the next mission, he’d walked out of the airlock doors and spotted what he’s almost _certain_ was the two of them free-floating in a Tempest escape pod.)

In her stranger moments, Jaal finds himself wishing that Ryder was more angaran in nature. He suspects that underneath her half-answers to his many questions are her _real_ feelings, living just beneath the surface and maddeningly out of his reach. She is equal parts frustrating and fascinating, a creature made of parts that are entirely foreign to him.

To his credit, Jaal has always enjoyed learning how a thing works.

And so when Evfra tells him to report for reassignment, his refusal is firm. The decision settles on him peacefully, and Ryder’s immediate insistence that he’s a valuable part of the team only bolsters his resolve. He finds he’s rather _proud_ to be valued by her, and the words are made sweeter because she has no real _need_ of him. Her recent accomplishments have opened doors, and she might easily recruit any number of soldiers to her cause, but she chose him.

The thought leaves him unexpectedly warm.

They make for Havarl immediately, the Roekaar threat more pressing at every turn. It is no small relief to see this place again: his mothers live here, and while there is no time to visit them, it comforts him to know they’re close. The small jungle is a welcome change from the vast, cold expanse of Voeld; kett presence is at a minimum, though it’s a sad state of affairs that their time is instead spent fighting his own people. Akksul and his Roekaar are as problematic as he’d feared, and Thaldyr’s death removes their best opportunity to reach him. He has no choice but to ask the Moshae to arrange a meeting, which _also_ goes about as well as he’d hoped. It’s a frustrating series of setbacks.

And then the Roekaar attack Eos.

His brothers, neighbors, and friends against the humans’ first foothold in their world, and it strikes him as the point of no return: if he fights with her, here, he will fight with her until the end.

And this is how Jaal Ama Darav forsakes his own people for Sara Ryder.

 

* * *

 

 

In the grand scheme of things, the sight of Jaal working on homemade presents for every member of the crew isn’t the strangest thing she’s seen on the Tempest, but it’s ranking solidly in the top five. She also can’t help but encourage him to write poetry for Vetra, because _oh my God_.

It’s funny, but it’s also incredibly earnest, and it’s just another piece she slots into her overall picture of Jaal Ama Darav. He’d been a nearly permanent presence in her ground team on Voeld and Havarl by necessity - it always helps to travel with a native, and he gives her credibility with some of the more open-minded angara - but she’d found herself bringing him along to missions on other worlds, too. He’s a hell of a shot and a remarkable tactician, able to anticipate the enemy and her own movements with impressive accuracy. Whether he enjoys it or not, Jaal’s been a fighter for most of his life, and it shows.

There’s something more to it than just his proficiency. He’s deeply foreign to her on every level: she comes from a long line of _suffer in silence_ types, and the openness of his expression constantly surprises her. She suspects Jaal’s never lied to her, simply because he’s never felt the need to do so. In the same way that she has Liam for advice on building colonies and Cora for navigating bullshit Initiative politics, she has Jaal for unwavering honesty. It doesn’t hurt that he’s also an excellent teammate, amateur historian, and passable cook (no one can hold a candle to Drack, but it’s not really a fair comparison - the krogan has had _literal centuries_ of experience). He’s also quite tall, which is nice for finding him in a crowd, and his shoulders are delightfully broad, which Sara’s certain is somehow helpful in a way she’s simply not discovered yet.

Really, there are a lot of things she admires about Jaal. Which absolutely _does not excuse_ what’s coming out of her mouth right now.

“I think you’re great.”

A quick quirk of his lips, his eyes flicking downward to meet hers (now that they’re standing a little closer, they look remarkably like galaxies of their own, and _she is not having this thought right now_ \- ) “That’s so -”

Awkward? Misguided? Incredibly inappropriate, coming from the woman whose team he has joined for the clear and express purpose of saving his people from certain annihilation?

“It’s true.”

Excellent. Just cut him off. That’s perfect.

“You’re making me blush.”

_Well_. That’s interesting.

“I can’t tell.”

Because her glaring ignorance of angaran biology and social customs is a great way to end this particular conversation. _Sara Ryder, Queen of First Contact, forever may you reign._

It’s only after she’s extracted herself and what small shreds remain of her dignity to her quarters that she comes to terms with the last ten minutes of her life.

She definitely just flirted with Jaal. And he definitely _maybe_ just flirted back.

And this is how Sara Ryder develops a wholly inadvisable crush on Jaal Ama Darav.

 

* * *

 

Akksul’s message comes as no surprise, but its threat is serious enough that he feels obligated to share it with Ryder. She seems less concerned about its implications for her people than its effect on his feelings: tells him that he’s the better man, laughs when he tells her that at least he’s the better-looking one.

He’s content to wait for Akksul to make the next move. The restlessness that has plagued him for years has settled, somehow, dwindled away the longer he spends on Ryder’s team. He has a _purpose_ here, a role that does not depend on the Ama Darav name or the accomplishments of those who came before him. He has a place that grows more comfortable every day: he spars with Liam in the hold most evenings, and gives Cora tips on the best native fauna to add to her garden. He and Vetra swap stories about the misadventures of their younger siblings. Peebee comes to him with questions about Remant technology, and he answers as best he can; together they take apart a Nullifier just to see if they can put it back together (a miserable failure of an experiment, but an enlightening one). With Drack, he simply listens, content to hear the stories built from hundreds of years of experience.

And then there’s Ryder herself.

The longer he knows her, the more she enthralls him. His curiosity about her is insatiable: he wants to know about her family, about what being a Pathfinder feels like to her, about who she was in the Milky Way and the pieces of her that changed after a six-hundred year sleep. He sees her move on the battlefield, a watchful hawk in the shadows, and comes to recognize the low exhale she makes before every pinpoint shot. He listens to her casual remarks in the field, and learns that underneath them is a razor-sharp wit and an intelligence she deliberately hides for her own benefit.

There is a magnetism, too, in her features. It surprises him when he first realizes it - that he could find an alien so lovely in appearance - but there is an undeniable beauty to her, and every moment in her presence only makes him more painfully aware of it. There is a poetry to the shape of her mouth and the slope of her nose, a kind of balance in the brightness of her eyes against the inky blackness of hair that falls in waves to her shoulders. She is appealing because of her alienness and in spite of it. He spends a significant amount of his free time on the extranet researching human social customs, wondering if their conversations mean the same thing to her as they do to him, wondering if she might be _interested_ in a way he increasingly hopes is possible between them.

Then his mother calls, and his newfound peace shatters.

His own brothers and sisters have disappeared, off to join the Roekaar, swayed by Akksul’s lies and the blind vengeance of his people. The thought fills him with equal parts rage and despair: how can he fight, knowing that any enemy could be his own flesh and blood? What will he do if the next angaran Ryder kills with a clean shot to the head wears a face he knows and loves?

She appears at his door as if summoned by his thoughts, and hears enough of the conversation to understand. Her concern is immediate, and he can see the moment she begins to consider options. He has known her to take up personal favors for other members of the team before, requests both large and small: picking up Remnant technology for Peebee, helping Liam rescue a contact, finding the asari ark for Cora.

This is a trial he does not want to face alone. He tells her so, and her response is immediate. “You don’t have to. Just tell me the time and place.”

And _why_ had he ever doubted her, this brave and bold woman? It shames him now, how he had hated her at the gates of Aya: she who now offers without reservation to march into the heart of her enemy’s stronghold _to save them for his sake_. He is unspeakably grateful.

“No hesitation. That is what I love about you.”

Something flashes across her face at that - something that interests him, something he wants to _chase_ \- and he puts it to the side, content to wait until he can give it the attention it deserves.

They find Lathoul and Teviint and Baranjj, all blessedly unharmed and whole and ready to _come home_. Sara steadies her gun against Akksul when he asks, though he can see the war on her face, knows what it costs her to trust him, knows the fallout she’ll have to suffer if he’s wrong.

But he isn’t wrong. Akksul’s rage betrays him, and for the price of a scar, the Roekaar destroy themselves from the inside. It is as it should be.

When it is over - when his family reunites, brothers and sister in the arms of their mothers - he feels a wholeness he has long missed. And when Sara brings her emotions before him - tells him _I was really worried_ and he sees the truth of it all across her - he puts his forehead against hers and listens to her breathe. It is a quiet moment. It is as it should be.

And this is how Jaal Ama Darav comes to understand his affection for Sara Ryder.

 

* * *

 

Their encounter with the Roekaar teaches Sara three things in very quick succession: that she _really_ hates Akksul, that she _really_ likes Jaal, and that the angara are _really_ shit shots at point-blank range. It’s all valuable information, but it’s that bit about Jaal that stays with her.

There’s a shift in their conversations, now, cemented by that intimate moment they’d shared on the shuttle launchpad but hadn’t spoken of since. They talk about hopes, and dreams, and family. She learns about Allia and Jaal’s brother ( _bitch_ , she thinks, and then immediately regrets it when he tells her how the story ends). Something in her keens at the way he talks about his first love - that angaran openness so powerful in its remembrance - and she wishes she had a story of her own to share.

She’d had her fair share of flings in the Milky Way: human soldiers coming through on assignment, a couple of asari, and once a turian (which came with its own logistical challenges, but there had been some word on the ground that the famous _Commander Shepard_ was fucking a turian - almost certainly just a rumor, but Shepard was something of a personal hero of Sara’s). It had all been fun, but none of it meaningful, and the vast gap between the two leaves her feeling adrift in the weight of Jaal’s emotions.

Because there’s no getting around the fact that she thinks about him _very frequently_ . Much more than appropriate, even for a friend and crewmate - which might be easier to move past if it wasn’t for those _goddamn emails_ , which Jaal apparently uses as an opportunity to reflect at length on her finest qualities. She’s taken to checking her them in her quarters, away from her crew’s knowing glances; even Kallo had commented on her blush last time, but how was she supposed to help herself? She had no idea what calling someone a ‘Special Friend’ meant for the angara, but for humans it roughly translated to ‘I am Literally the Sweetest Fucking Person You Have Ever Known, and Also Definitely Into You.’

Which is great news. Maybe the best news.

But her attempts at telling him so are not going particularly well by _any standards ever_.

“I think you’re interesting and...well...great. Anyway, I’d like to get to know you better. What’d ya think?”

She’s dying. May every window in the Tempest shatter and suck her into the vastness of space, because it would be a pleasant alternative to whatever happens next.

“Yes. I’d like that.”

“That’s it?”

She can’t help herself. The man always has so much to say, such a tremendous depth of emotion, and suddenly _now_ he wants to be brief.

“You are a lovely woman, fascinating, a brilliant risk-taker. Knowing you better would be a gift. Sincerely.”

Oh. _Oh._ Jaal’s looking at her very calmly, as if he’d just mentioned Drack was making roast for dinner and he was rather looking forward to it.

“Okay, then.”

And this is how Sara Ryder begins to fall (terrifyingly, wonderfully, absolutely fucking _madly_ ) in love with Jaal Ama Darav.

 

* * *

 

Havarl is in fine form the day Jaal brings Sara home. Their work in the vault has removed the wildest of the mutated creatures, and dismantling the Roekaar foothold at the Forge has brought no small stability to the region.

News of his confrontation with Akksul had spread like wildfire, and while he had seen his mother briefly afterwards, the near loss had clearly shaken her. He had pledged to himself to make a proper visit soon, and when he’d heard they would be in the system for Ryder’s obsessive planet scanning, he’d emailed and asked her to join. He’d received a reply that same afternoon, telling him they’d be in Havarl orbit within the week.

Sahuna’s joy at seeing him warms his soul - reminds him of all the reasons he deeply misses home, even among the brilliant stars and suns of Heleus - and once he’s assured her that he’s simply there to say hello, his mother’s attention turns almost entirely to the Pathfinder.

For her part, Ryder is eternally full of surprises. Her immediate embrace of Sahuna delights him - most humans are restrained in physical affection, but she knows his people, she knows _him_ \- and his mother’s warmth is immediate.

“Jaal’s told me how much he admires you.”

“ _Really?_ ”, Sara says, looking rather like the cat that ate the canary (a human idiom she had taught him which had taken a very thorough extranet search to understand).

“He’s my favorite. Smart. Loyal. Kind. A great shot. Writes poetry, sews -”

They’ll be here all day if he lets her continue - the many virtues of Sahuna’s favorite children start out as specifics, but quickly devolve into general (he had once heard her boast that his eldest brother “ _has a very healthy appetite_ ”) - but his mother excuses herself for a Resistance meeting and moves along.

“Every child is her favorite,” he murmurs to Sara as they move towards the central room, and delights in watching the grin break across her face.

He expects that rumors of the Pathfinder’s visit had made the rounds after he’d reserved the two of them a shuttle for the trip home, because most of his family is here: his brothers and sisters, of course, but also several cousins, a few aunts and uncles, and a fair number of the mothers. His heart is full at seeing them. A lifetime of war takes so much from his people, but this is what they have: each other, together, to share strength and courage and love when there is so little of it to be found.

Though he’ll be having a word with whoever left the box of Alfit’s remains on his bed.

And then there is Sara - here, in his home, with his people, her arms wrapped around his mother, her laughter bright across the common room, her face inscrutable at his story of Alfit’s unfortunate end - and his affection for her rings loudly in his chest. _What a glorious and painful thing_ , he thinks, _falling in love_. It is a truth he cannot wait to share with her, and there is no time to waste.

“You make my heart sing. I want us to be together.”

He tilts his head down towards her, close enough to hear the soft, sharp intake of breath, close enough to faintly feel the thumping of her heart, close enough to hear what she says next.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

The laughter rises out of him, unbidden, joyful: that Sara Ryder would be called his and that he might be called hers, this brilliant creature, this fearless adventurer. That she might permit him to put his hand on her face, to bring his lips to hers and breathe that joy into her -

(Jaal is no fool: a simple extranet search had told him that kissing translates beautifully between their species)

\- and that she would return it, instantly and wholly, no hint of hesitation in her. The electric hum of his people is absent on her lips, but he finds that he doesn’t miss it, loves instead the strange softness of her mouth, the feel of her hair against his glove. It is a moment he stores away to relive a thousand times.

Later, they lay side by side, looking up at the jumbled mess of stars in his imagined galaxy. He knows that outside the walls, his family has heard their quiet laughter, can sense the electricity that jumps along his skin. They know his intent, and they will share it. The Ama Darav name is important, and a large family even by his people’s standards: the word will have spread across Havarl by evening, and will likely reach Aya before their next visit. Soon, the angara will know that Jaal has publicly pledged his affection to the human Pathfinder.

“My mother is going to love you,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

And this is how Jaal Ama Darav tells the world about Sara Ryder.

 

* * *

 

By the time they get back to the ship, Sara has two new messages in her inbox from Jaal’s true mother.

The first is equal parts praise for her character and a warning against the angaran response to her relationship with Jaal. The praise makes her beam, and the warning only steels her resolve: her father’s stubbornness was renowned across most of the Milky Way, and for better or worse, she is her father’s daughter. There’s also a bit at the end about a personal narrative and medical history that gives her a vague sense of foreboding, but she shoots a quick note to Lexi and asks for a copy of her files.

The other email is about pie.

And this is how Sara Ryder comes to love - and also _definitely, absolutely fear_ \- the many mothers of Jaal Ama Darav.

 

* * *

 

The angara are a _creation_ . The revelation at Khi Tasira shakes him to the core, leaves him feeling lost, adrift in his own skin. It’s too many emotions at once, with no way to sift through them: anger, and fear, and defiance, and a kind of loneliness that sinks deep in his bones - and resilience, and gratitude, and a thirst for the _purpose_ that exists but is lost to them.

What does it mean to be abandoned by the force that created you?

He knows she will not wait to come to him, but he has no answers ready when the door slides open. There are too many things she’s forced him to face: the truth about the kett, about the angara, about _himself_. Anger is the easier option, but it only lasts a moment before it breaks, turned to dust against the shore of her quiet compassion.

What remains, to his surprise, is only awe: only the marvelous knowledge that the rising and setting of a thousand suns is not predicated on his knowledge or consent. He is the master of his own mind, of his skin and bones, of his love and fury and force of will...and that is all he owns. The birth of the angara is a mystery to him, but their existence is not. There is a destiny in their creation, but they have created their own destiny.

Jaal Ama Darav owns his heart and his future. He will choose his own destiny, and he will walk it with the woman before him. It is his choice, and his birthright, and his joy.

And this is how Jaal Ama Darav comes to believe in a life with Sara Ryder.

 

* * *

 

Sara sets course for Aya roughly five seconds after she gets Jaal’s email.

The weight of the mission has worn on her, lately. She’d thought they were _so close_ , and then Khi Tasira had given them more questions than answers. ‘Unexpected setbacks’ has been the unofficial Initiative motto since day one, but if she’s honest, she’s just ready to be _home_.

And so the prospect of a day with Jaal - presumably doing something _without_ kett involved, although she’s in the dark about what he has in mind - sounds like exactly what the doctor ordered.

(Technically, Lexi’s orders are to get eight hours of sleep, eat three balanced meals, and spend ten minutes in meditation daily, but she’d like to think that ‘visit a beautiful alien planet with your beautiful alien boyfriend’ deserves a spot on the list.)

It’s a true and proper _date_ , and there’s something so pure and simple about it, that there’s still room in the world for moments like this. She feels lighter than she has in months. Jaal’s foregone his usual formal attire for a simple undersuit, and the effect is marvelous: his chest is solid against her back, and she can feel the laughter rumbling through him as she tells him about her favorite place in the universe (she hasn’t found it yet, though _here, with him, right now_ is rapidly becoming a contender).

Then he takes her hand and brings it to his chest, and Sara has the sudden and blinding realization that this is _that moment_.

“Beyond all reason, I’ve fallen in love with you.”

His gaze is focused on her, earnest, and she feels suddenly and utterly incapable of doing anything except looking back at him.

“And I want...do you want to?...”

Yes. _Yes_ . Whenever he wants, whenever he’s ready, though she hopes it’s soon, because her own patience is thinning _very rapidly_ -

“Come with me into the water.”

\- _oh._ The revelations are coming hard and fast, now: Jaal loves her, he wants to be with her, he wants to be _with_ her - and based on his newly-naked form in her vision as he makes his way into the water, he means _right now_.

Her brain seems to have hit a limit in its processing speed. When Jaal turns to hold out a hand to her, it shuts down entirely. Leaving aside a few in-field medical patch-ups and Liam’s wayward attempts at cultural immersion (when she’d been too busy _absolutely not looking_ to really appreciate the view), this is far more than she’s ever seen of him, and like hell if she’s going to miss the opportunity to survey the terrain.

It’s never been a cognitive leap for her to find Jaal attractive, but the sight of him now gives her a whole new appreciation - because if she’s honest, everything about him just _works_ for her. He is undeniably alien in ways that she finds fascinating and lovely: the flatness of his nose, the slant of his eyes, the bony protuberances above his chest, the breadth of his forehead as it tapers into the rivers of muscles that run down his back. But there are things that translate, too, and those strike a note low in her stomach: the broadness of his shoulders, the sinewy tendons of his back as they taper into the narrowness of his waist, the biceps and forearms that she knows from experience are too wide to span both her hands around.

It’s enough familiarity to feel at home. It’s enough foreignness to leave her wondering what would happen if she tried this, touched that, kissed there. The combination is intoxicating.

_A Pathfinder to the core_ , she thinks, and nearly laughs out loud.

But it’s a two-way street, and she’s always known that it might be a more difficult road for Jaal than for her. She is alien to him, too, and perhaps more so: the Milky Way has the benefit of a dozen races, and humans have more or less fucked all of them at some point, but the angara have only had a galaxy of their own. There’s so much of her that’s different, both in form and function (well, that second part is mostly a guess - she’s woefully undereducated on angaran biology, which has suddenly become a _very pressing issue_ ).

The thought might scare her if it weren’t for the way he’s looking at her now, as she strips off her Initiative-standard fatigues. There is a steadiness, and a surety, and an undeniable interest: he’s not looking at all the places a human might look, but he’s _definitely looking_ , and the thought gives her everything she needs to leave the last of her clothing on the bank and join him in the water.

She takes his hand, and the expression on his face now is definitely appreciation. He circles with her, watching her move, giving them both a chance to adjust. “You are more lovely than anyone I have ever known, in body and spirit,” he says, and her heart aches at the sound of it. “Wherever you go, take me with you.”

There’s nothing left to tell him except the truth.

“I love you too, Jaal,” she says, and their laughter as he gathers her into his arms is the strongest and clearest thing she knows.

Some time later, with the waterfall roaring in her ears and the gentle shock of Jaal’s mouth as he trails a bridge of electric kisses down her stomach, three things occur to Sara in rapid succession: electromagnetism is highly underrated, Jaal is _astonishingly_ well-researched on the intricacies of human biology, and she will absolutely need to purge SAM’s recording logs.

Then Jaal hits home, and it’s the last cohesive thought she has for a very long time.

And this is how Sara Ryder receives a _very thorough_ crash course in angaran biology, courtesy of resident scholar Jaal Ama Darav.

 

* * *

 

There is a unique agony in watching her die _again_.

Jaal could live a thousand lifetimes and never forget the absolute fear that fills him at the sight of her on floor, at the sound of her shaking breath as it slows and stops, at the impossibly loud ringing in his head to _help save give fix fix fix_ . He is frantic, calling for the Tempest and cursing into the static of their response. They are _running out of time_.

The paleness of her skin gives birth to something deep and dark and terrible in him.

She wakes, and the relief of it is enough to make him weep, but the fear does not subside: she is still weak. Every unsteady step takes a piece of his heart from his chest, and yet she is _still fighting_ , still doing the impossible: opening the door of the vault, reaching the Tempest, calling forward an army to follow them into the abyss. She rallies the crew, gives a rousing speech about how it’s it’s time for some _fucking payback_ , and charts a course for Meridian. Her bravery is beautiful.

All he sees is the paleness of her skin.

Their conversation on the bridge is brief. He knows she needs him to be strong and clear, and so he is: he reminds her of the leader she has become, of the unfailing confidence he has in her, of the inevitable truth that they will _win_. He sees her bolstered faith, and knows that he has done well. She is confident and unafraid. She is focused. She will fight with purpose and clarity, and her steps will not falter.

And still his own fury lies below the surface, waiting for him to open the door. He is patient: he suits up and boards the Nomad, falls into formation as they make progress towards the heart of Meridian, ensures that no one follows them through the massive doors of the vault. They pass from the sunlight of the surface into darkness, down the gravity well and into the structure’s endless depths. As he sights the first Breacher in his scope, Jaal flings wide the gate of his wrath.

His rage is a black hole, and it will swallow the world.

And this is how Jaal Ama Darav learns the terrible pain that lives inside his love for Sara Ryder.

 

* * *

 

Even to those who fought on the ground, the details on the Battle of Meridian are fuzzy. It’s widely accepted that the Pathfinder’s team was hot dropped onto the surface in a standard-issue Nomad and made their way to a large superstructure on the planet. It’s generally agreed upon that they were supported by an astonishing number of allies: the angaran Moshae backed by Resistance fighters, the trio of newly appointed Pathfinders alongside survivors from their respective arks, a rather dashing man who’s apparently tied to the Collective faction in Kadara, and a fully-equipped krogan mercenary squad from the outpost on Elaaden. There are several eyewitness accounts of the Pathfinder entering the building, flanked by two teammates (one unmistakably krogan, the other unknown). From there, opinions vary, and it’s mostly accepted that the truth will always be something of a mystery.

Until _Path of a Hero_.

By all accounts, Keri T’Vessia’s documentary is an unparalleled success. It’s a hard look at the early days of the Initiative: interviews with colonists and outcasts, coverage on the uprising and what came after, all wrapped up in a sharp criticism of the Nexus’ governing body. It’s an impressive piece of work, held together by T’Vessia’s own candid narration and keen eye for detail.

In popular opinion, the documentary’s most compelling subject is the human Pathfinder. The story of Sara Ryder is spun out across multiple installments: the death of her father and the accident that left her brother in a coma, her work to find a true golden world, her alliance with the angara and their joint development of habitable worlds, her retrieval of the arks and the part she played in naming new Pathfinders, her reunification of the krogan colonies and the somewhat unpalatable role she had in power exchanges on Kadara. It’s all there, accompanied by eyewitness statements and interviews with Ryder herself.

And then, of course, there’s the crowning achievement: original footage of the Battle of Meridian.

Even the strangest rumors hold no candle to the truth. Buried deep beneath the surface of their new home planet is a massive network of technology, most of it unexplored and all of it beyond the threshold of human achievement. However it works, it’s responsible for the habitability of nearly seventy percent of the planets in the cluster...and in order to secure it, the Pathfinder and her team brought down a kett leader that had somehow interfaced with a _giant mechanical worm_.

The footage resolves a thousand rumors (and gives birth to hundreds more), but the closing shot of the documentary puts to rest what is perhaps the most hotly contested one of all.

The Pathfinder’s angaran teammate pulls her in for a kiss that speaks of practice and familiarity, and then grabs her thighs and lifts her effortlessly to his waist in a gesture that speaks of _quite a lot of familiarity indeed_. He spins her in circles against the backdrop of a brilliant, blinding sun, their laughter giving way to soundtrack as the film’s credits roll.

And this is how Keri T’Vessia tells the story of Sara Ryder and Jaal Ama Darav.

(and makes a _metric shit ton_ of credits doing it).  


 

END


End file.
